


Dominate

by Valmouth



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dom John Sheppard, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Gen, M/M, Not all doms are assholes, Panic Attacks, Psychological Trauma, Self-Esteem Issues, Sub Rodney McKay, implied dubious consent, working together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2700983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valmouth/pseuds/Valmouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>‘Subs like structure’, his trainer always told him.</p>
<p>So he focuses on the room. He maps it out in his mind, picking spots he likes and doesn’t like. Assigns work stations and spaces and factors in overlapping expertise.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

By the time he realises what John is, Rodney is sunk.

They’re stuck on an Ancient City in the middle of another galaxy, with Wraith on their doorstep, and they need Sheppard for a hundred reasons that Rodney finds too frustrating to go into even with himself.

The point is that Sheppard stays alive, keeps as many of them alive as he can, and Rodney wonders how he didn’t notice it before - the swagger, the confidence. The easy assumption of command.

It’s only been a few days since Sheppard shot at him and threw him off a ledge, and that part of the experience was the most fun Rodney’s had testing devices since forever.

The point is, he’s let himself relax. In as much as he can relax when they’re all about to die every ten minutes. He’s let himself kind of acknowledge the Major, and quite enjoy their little exchanges, and he’s agreed to be on the man’s off-world team.

But John Sheppard is a dominant.

And Rodney doesn’t, doesn’t, really _doesn’t_ like dominants.

It’s two parts fear and one part pure loathing.

He kicks himself for not noticing sooner. True, Sheppard isn’t advertising, just as Rodney isn’t advertising, but Rodney’s experienced his fair share of dominants.  

He prays that he’s wrong. He really does. He spends a whole evening forcing himself not to panic. The military has its fair share of dominants; the science and administration support teams have more. He has prepared himself to deal with them, and he has prepared himself for the fight, but by the time night falls, he’s gibbering with fear in his quarters, pale and sweating and terribly angry that he’s left a galaxy to get away from dominants only to find himself working in close proximity to one.

Maybe Sheppard will die, he decides, which for him is optimistic and really not morbid, but the Major seems to have a knack for surviving and isn’t dead yet. It might only be a matter of time, but even then, Rodney’s committed himself to spending time with this man. Worse, he’s agreed to let Sheppard _lead_.

A dominant with power is never a good dominant, and the only dominants Rodney likes are... well, he doesn’t like any. But he prefers the ones far away from him.

His emotional state is past the point of no return when he hears his door chime.

He ignores it. Hopes that whoever it is will go away and that it’s not something important because he’s in no fit state to deal with anything right then.

But the door chimes again, and again, and his nerves are starting to shred to fine, painful slivers.

“McKay, open the door.”

He actually shudders and curls tighter, clamping his teeth down mulishly because he’s not going to answer. He won’t give Sheppard the pleasure.

“Rodney, I know you’re there. Just open your damn door.”

He can’t answer. If he opens his mouth, he’ll say something embarrassing. He knows he will.

“Rodney, look, I just want to talk.”

Typical dominant, Rodney thinks, swallowing past the white hot flash of anger. He wants to talk. He wants to talk now. So of course the sub has to say ‘yes, sir’ and ‘right away, sir’ and ‘three bags full, sir’. Of course the sub has to open the door, crawl and simper and be grateful for every scrap of attention, never mind that it’s late and they’re supposed to be asleep. Never mind that not opening a door for normal people means a refusal to let someone into your personal space.

“McKay, I am not having this conversation in public so open your damn door and let’s get this over with.”

This tone is different. This tone is pissed, dangerous. All hard edges and clipped vowels.

Rodney’s fear shorts out his anger and he pushes himself to his feet, stumbles to the door and swipes it open as fast as he can.

‘Get it over with,’ he thinks desperately, ‘Please let that mean it won’t be all night.’

There are a few other subs on the expedition but of the other three, two are lucky enough to have arrangements with one of the other dominants. The third is timid and shy and won’t make a fuss.

He’s different. He isn’t timid or shy, and he does make a fuss. He’s large and sarcastic, and for some reason his job makes dominants think it’ll be fun to see how far and how fast they can take him down.

Then Sheppard’s in his doorway and Rodney really, really wants to hide under the bed.

He doesn’t want this.

As resigned as he is to the inevitable, he doesn’t want it and when it comes to fight or flight situations, his instinct is very much set to flight.

But there’s nowhere to run to. Not when John Sheppard walks in and closes the door with a swipe of his palm.

Rodney doesn’t know what position he should take. There are many, so many.

He opts for going down on his knees, head bowed, hands on his thighs.

He can see the Major’s boots. Military issue. Heavy. Almost new. The kind of boots that will leave immediate bruises.

The boots approach.

“Get up, Rodney,” Sheppard sighs, “I’m not here for that.”

Rodney gets up slowly, far more slowly than when he went down, waiting to see if it’s a test or if he’s only standing up to give a dominant a better setting for a scene. He even gets as far as raising his eyes to Sheppard’s arms crossed against the black tshirt.

“What do you want?” Rodney asks.

His voice sounds surly even to his own ears, and he’s still waiting for the blow to descend.

“To talk, like I said. I’m not going to – Rodney, stop that, would you? I’m not here to do anything. I just want to discuss this little situation we have.”

Rodney’s eyes finally make the jump up to Sheppard’s face. “Situation?” he echoes.

“You’re a sub,” the Major points out. It’s a statement, not a question. “What provisions did Colonel Sumner make for your safety?”

“Erm,” Rodney says, because if Sumner made any, he wasn’t told about them, “That would be none as far as I know.”

The Major’s face grows grim. “I thought so. Here’s how I think we should play this- every morning, say by 0900, you will contact me to let me know you’re safe, healthy, in one piece. The same at 2300. This is non-negotiable and happens no matter what. If the radio is too public, we can set up a secure channel, or come find me. If anything happens, call me. Anyone gives you trouble, call me. Anything makes you uncomfortable, call me.”

Rodney bites down on his tongue. He tries, he really does.

But his panic from before hasn’t just vanished into thin air, and every word feels like he’s being locked into some kind of commitment. Into some kind of agreement. Dragged closer into a net with no way out and never mind that the Major says he wants nothing right this minute, who’s to say he won’t tomorrow? Or the next day? Who’s to say he will give Rodney any choice in the matter?

Rodney distantly thinks his panic may be sliding towards hysteria.

Sheppard tips his head to the side, and then he drops his arms to his side. “Shit, Rodney, breathe! I told you, I’m not here to do anything. These are just security protocols for your protection.”

Rodney swallows.

“Rodney?”

Sheppard steps closer.

Rodney steps back. It’s entirely involuntary. And he cringes when he’s done it.

Sheppard looks more surprised than anything else. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, and then he snaps it shut. He starts again in a more normal tone, polite, like he’s talking to someone he doesn’t know, “Doctor Mckay,” he says, “Do you need to sit down?”

Rodney’s not quite sure how he gets from standing there having a nervous fit to sitting on his desk chair, head between his legs, while John Sheppard leans against the far wall and just watches him.

“Better?” Sheppard asks quietly.

“Better,” Rodney says cautiously. He risks more when Sheppard doesn’t move. “I don’t think I should be on your team.”

The Major shrugs. “If you don’t want to, I’ll find someone else.”

Rodney nods.

“But is that it? That you don’t want to? Or you don’t want to work with me?”

Rodney doesn’t answer him.

Clearly his opinion shows on his face because Sheppard shifts just slightly as he says, “I can put you on another team. SGA-5 is still waiting on a scientist. They won’t get the interesting sites, though,” Sheppard says with a small grin.

It’s such a normal look, almost like before, when they were kidding around and John was pushing Rodney off a ledge.

Rodney hunches down a little lower. “The SGC doesn’t put submissives into off-world teams. It was fine when you didn’t know, and granted I am the best we’ve got, but I really think it would be inappropriate now.”

“And you want... what? To stay here or go out into the field?”

“I have more than enough to occupy me here.”

The Major pushes off the wall and folds his arms again. “Rodney,” he says, “Do you want to join or not?”

“It’s not that simple,” Rodney says. He fights to keep his voice even.

“That’s not an answer.” The answer comes out sharper than before. Harder. A little note of warning danger.

Rodney can’t help it. He’s terrified enough of what’s outside Atlantis, of the Wraith and the whole new galaxy with all the myriad ways he can die. Now he has a dominant to contend with, a dominant standing in his bedroom. A dominant approaching; looking hostile; making demands.

His head snaps up before he thinks. “I said it’s not that simple,” he spits.

Sheppard stops in his tracks, and frowns.

Rodney freezes.

“Are you afraid of me?” Sheppard asks slowly.

“No.”

“Right.”

“I don’t trust you. There’s a difference.”

The Major’s frown smoothes out to an expression that Rodney can’t read.

The man stands loose and casual, comfortable, confident in Rodney’s room as if he owns it. “I see.”

Rodney flinches in spite of himself.

It’s the formal voice from before, like the Major has never met him before, has never spoken to him or joked with him or laughed with him while testing out a strange alien device.

“Well, there’s nothing more to be said, then.”

Rodney opens his mouth.

The Major waves a hand. “My orders concerning the security protocol still stand. I will expect to hear from you at 0900 tomorrow morning. Is that clear? Answer yes or no.”

“Yes,” Rodney replies, “But...”

“And now I’m going to bed,” Sheppard says brutally, “In my own quarters, and you can lock the door behind me.”

Rodney tenses when Sheppard moves. It’s not that he has any reason to distrust the Major but the man is a dominant, standing in his room late at night, and Rodney has already shown himself to be weak and vulnerable.

The sight of John Sheppard walking out the door feels like a bath of cold water.

Rodney stumbles to his feet and locks it frantically.

Then he strips off and stands under the shower until his head clears, teeth chattering in the cold rush of water.

He sleeps that night, but not very well, and when he wakes up in the clear light of day, he thumps his head back against his pillow and swears softly. His panic has cleared, and when cold logic battens down the hatches against overwhelming emotion, it tells him roundly that he is an idiot.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Subs like structure’, his trainer always told him.
> 
> So he focuses on the room. He maps it out in his mind, picking spots he likes and doesn’t like. Assigns work stations and spaces and factors in overlapping expertise.

Rodney doesn’t look for the Major that morning but as luck would have it, he sees him in the mess hall, chatting to the only other independent sub on Atlantis. The woman looks like she’d break in a strong breeze, and she’s smiling up at Sheppard with shy trust.

Rodney feels his jaw tighten at such naive faith in the goodness of the human race. Though she is a pretty girl, and it’s entirely probable that there are submissives who have led happy, fulfilling lives with kind, gentle dominants.

Rodney’s experience of everyone who is either a genetic dominant or inconclusively tested is that there’s always been and always will be a massive conspiracy to enjoy their combined power over submissives to the fullest extent they can manage.

He rolls his eyes and turns away but then a thought occurs to him.

He gets his coffee and his plate of what passes for breakfast food, and he forces himself to walk until he’s standing beside the table where Sheppard is sitting.

“Major,” he says.

The Major has seen him coming; no doubt about that. He’s already looking up, the grin he was wearing slipping away to the same unreadable expression from last night.

“Dr. McKay,” Sheppard says calmly, “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” Rodney says shortly, “You asked me to check in. Does this count?”

“It counts. I guess you know Dr. Kendle?”

Rodney spares her a glance.

“Hi, Dr. McKay,” she says brightly, lips softly parted.

She really is flushed and eager, Rodney thinks disgustedly, just like any dominant would want. Pretty and delicate and vulnerable.

He has never felt any desire to protect people, and his counsellor told him that was to be expected. She told him it was his genetic engineering, and nothing he’s ever lived through has given him any reason to concern himself with anyone except himself. He has enough trouble keeping himself in one piece.

“Joining us?” John asks.

Rodney abandons her to her fate.

“Thanks, but no. Some of us have work to do.”

He doesn’t hear anything until he’s three steps away, and then he hears the Major’s laid-back drawl sigh, “Science is a cruel mistress.”

Gina Kendle giggles.

Rodney feels his cheeks burn and he is more than happy to leave the mess hall behind. It’s lucky that he has powerbars in his pocket and coffee in the lab.

He looks at people as he passes them in the corridor but they don’t treat him differently. At least, not that he can tell. A couple of them nod at him politely but most of them know him by sight or reputation, and the rest of them don’t care. They leave him alone.

There is no leer, no sudden hand shooting out of the crowd to drag him to a stop. There is no jeering and inappropriate teasing. No callous order tossed off in his general direction.

Rodney gets to the physics lab before his blood pressure reaches dangerous levels and just the sight of the hastily assembled chaos calms him down.

‘Subs like structure’, his trainer always told him, ‘subs like structure’.

He focuses on the room, ignoring the two other scientists already there unpacking boxes. He maps it out in his mind, picking spots he likes and doesn’t like. Assigns work stations and spaces and factors in overlapping expertise.

There are similar rooms all the way down the corridor. Most of the disciplines have already claimed labs and work spaces that seem appropriate to their needs.

“You,” he says, and snaps his fingers to get the attention of the Asian-looking woman peering myopically at a whiteboard that’s bigger than she is. “Push that over there. No, not there! There! Where there’s light! Thank you. Yes. That’s better. Where are the markers?”

 The small Czech guy in the glasses stumbles in a little later, trailed by military types hauling more boxes.

“That’s geology,” Rodney snaps, waving at the top layer of boxes, “They go to the geology lab. Three doors down.”

“Rodney, I ask them to bring them here,” the Czech guy says, “I feel we can sort when they are in one place, yes?”

“No,” Rodney says witheringly, “What kind of stupid idea is that? Look, you two, just take the whole lot down to geology. Tell them to sort it out.”

The flyboys glare but they do as he says.

Rodney finds that it pays to be as assertive as he can be, right up front.

It’s worked for him for the last five years. Not for a really determined dominant, no, or for a really determined incon-tested either come to that, but for the average person, he gets by. It’s certainly better than sitting around and waiting for some champion on a white charger to have his back.

He stays in his lab and turns chaos into order, and when it’s over, he breathes in deep when no one’s looking and lets his shoulders drop.

Because it’s all true, really- subs like order.

He leaves the lab when he’s bored and had enough, and when it’s clear that it’s mostly done except for putting down the welcome mat. Data experts and the linguists are going slowly through the Ancient database.

He has himself firmly under control, so much so that he doesn’t flinch when he spots the Colonel heading towards the control room.

Up ahead of him.

Lets his eyes rest briefly on John Sheppard’s back and shoulders, and then drags his eyes away and scowls at the floor.

He slows his pace right down, waiting for Sheppard to disappear further down the corridor, the occasional snatch of conversation bouncing off the walls and floating back towards him. Easy conversation, full of command. Self assured.

Sheppard gives the impression that he knows what he’s doing.

Rodney forcibly reminds himself that up until five days ago, John Sheppard was just another smart-mouthed Airman. Only along because of the strength of his gene. Easy going and laid back and with no true power, not under Sumner, just another face in the crowd.

Rodney glowers at the floor, pausing by a window and shaking his head in irritation as a hint of the panic slithers back into his blood stream.

“Dr. McKay?”

Halling appears out of nowhere, still limping along on crutches, and Rodney jumps as the interruption drags him back out of his thoughts. He’d been too far into his own head, he realised, much to his self-disgust.

“Yes,” he says warily.

But it turns out to be a simple politeness. Halling says ‘hello’ and tells him that the Athosians would like to assist the Expedition in any way they can, as thanks for the generosity they are being shown.

Rodney eyes him with confusion. “Oh. Right. Well, since I doubt any of you can be much use to the scientists, I don’t think there’s any help you can be.”

Halling ducks his head a little. “I admit our understanding of your technology is inferior to your own, but perhaps we can learn...”

“Thank you,” Rodney says, “I doubt it but your sentiment is appreciated. Maybe the kitchens need some help. You can check there.”

He notices the shadow of someone waiting around a corner and it’s been there for some time. It’s just that it doesn’t trip any switches in his head until he rounds the corner himself, and finds the Major standing there, arms crossed.

And the Major looks at him like he’s an idiot.

“McKay,” Sheppard says decisively, “We need to have a little chat.”

The panic flairs again but Rodney’s practised, now that he’s prepared for it. He squashes it down and swallows hard against both the urge to deny the order outright, and the urge to give into it immediately. Both reactions, he knows from experience, will give a dominant too much leverage.

“About what?” he asks, instead.

Facts. And the fact is that he can say no. He is allowed, even if the grey areas are too easily manipulated. He can demand explanations, he can insist on public conversations, he can refuse to go anywhere he doesn’t want to go.

He can lay charges, if he feels it’s warranted, but Rodney’s brain is intelligent because it’s capable of understanding complex judgements on multiple levels in very fast order, and he understands that Elizabeth will protect him to the letter of the law, but she likes the Major. She already trusts him, and more socially aware people than Rodney can see that.

Sheppard’s brow kind of wrinkles. “I told you to think about my offer.”

Rodney freezes.

“About the team,” Sheppard clarifies.

“I already answered that.”

Rodney prepares himself to walk around the obstruction but Sheppard moves casually to stand right in front of him.

“Rodney,” he sighs.

And Rodney’s hackles go right up. Right about around his ears. “What now?” he snaps.

He gets a level stare from narrowed hazel eyes and he steels himself to meet it with a challenge of his own. He tries, he really does. But the problem is, he can feel the weight of Sheppard’s stare pin him, and then push against him.

Distantly he thinks it’s a bit like being hypnotised by a snake. By danger. And far from meeting the gaze in a challenge, now he can’t look away.

The Major breaks eye contact first, but it’s Rodney who feels like he’s lost this battle.

Sheppard angles slightly, just enough to give Rodney the room to slip past him.

“Well, my offer to be on my team stands. The SGC isn’t around and we can do a test run. I think you’re not fit for the field, I’ll take you off. That’s my offer. Think about it. Let me know.”

The tone of his voice is light, like the last twenty four hours haven’t happened and Rodney’s still just the genius Head of Science on this Expedition, like he’s the guy who depleted a personal shield while saving the day.

Like they’re back to being normal. Not a dominant and a submissive in a contained space.

Rodney opens his mouth. He doesn’t know what to think about all this. His panic and fear is gone but the sudden shock of speechless uncertainty is foreign after all this time, and he’s not prepared for it. He fumbles to circumvent it but it loses him precious seconds, and credibility, and Sheppard is still watching him calmly.

Not in the way he was, pinning him in place with his force of his concentration, but lightly. Maybe a little confused, a little enquiring.

“Okay, Rodney, I’m gonna say this only once more,” Sheppard tells him, “I don’t want that. I’m not looking for any kind of relationship. Not with you, not with any other sub on here.”

Rodney flicks an alarmed glance up and down the corridor.

Because Sheppard says the word ‘sub’ like a typical dominant. Loudly. Openly. Like it’s a normal part of his world and he’s allowed to toss out a submissive’s orientation without another thought.

Then Sheppard grimaces. “Shit. This isn’t the place.”

“No, it’s not,” Rodney says, “And thank you but it’s completely useless. There’s no point.”

“I’m not done.”

“I am, Major.” Rodney pulls together the threads of his confidence. “Unless you want to order me to stop?”

He’s paused in mid-step, close enough to Sheppard to see those hazel eyes narrow again. His voice isn’t as strong as he’d like, not as steady as he’d like. But he’s got his point across.

Sheppard shakes his head. “Dr. McKay, if I give an order, it’s only in a military capacity. If you think I’m overstepping my bounds, you have the right to say so. If you’re not happy with how I handle it, take it to Elizabeth.”

Rodney blinks. “Thank you,” he says, “I will.”

It doesn’t sound half as ironic as he means it to.

But on that note, he does escape.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodney’s not stupid. He has rarely found people in the SGC who want to work with him. Because he isn’t a team player. He’s touchy, he’s abrupt, and he insults people. He also dislikes compromise.
> 
> “Are you sure?” Elizabeth asks.
> 
> “No,” Rodney says, “You have a better idea?”

In the end, it doesn’t matter.

The linguists going through the database find references to a research outpost that looks promising. John refuses to let any other team take the mission but the mission needs a scientist. Rodney is the best scientist they’ve got and the other guy, the guy who mutters in Czech or whatever it is, he’s busy running a batch of simulations that they never managed to complete from the week before.

“You go,” the Czech guy says, waving Rodney off with a distracted hand.

Rodney still hesitates. They have about six other scientists who can deal with the theoretical assessments, and about four other scientists who have the mechanical engineering skills. Out of those ten scientists, there are only four whose disciplines straddle both.

One is Gall, who puts his foot down and refuses to go off-world. Gall is deep in the middle of investigating the systems schematics available on the database. Argo is assisting. Miko is so quiet Rodney doesn’t even seriously consider her.

And then there’s Kavanagh.

He does seriously contemplate Kavanagh.

Mostly because Kavanagh is not completely useless. He’s too conservative, lacks creativity, and his approach to solving a problem is to point out why everybody else’s ideas wouldn’t work, but he’s got recommendations that Rodney will grudgingly acknowledge. If he has to.

Elizabeth listens patiently when he goes through the pros and cons in the briefing room, and then says, “Rodney, there’s got to be someone.”

Teyla is the one who asks, “Can you not assist in this situation, Dr. McKay? You say you are qualified for this mission.”

There’s silence in the room. Elizabeth clears her throat conspicuously; Ford shifts awkwardly and stares at the table, and Sheppard, well, the Major just watches Rodney. Face completely blank.

Very much as he had looked when they first talked three days ago in Rodney’s quarters. When Rodney had freaked out and Sheppard had been shocked by the violence of his reaction. It’s still the same look that Rodney gets when he ‘checks in’, the same blank tone of voice when Sheppard acknowledges it.

Rodney doesn’t look anyone in the eye when he says, “I am, however in this case I’m not available.”

Teyla inclines her head and accepts his evasion at face value.

“There are far too many important projects for me to work on here,” Rodney continues defensively.

“I understand, Dr. McKay,” Teyla says kindly.

“Yes, but I don’t think you people actually realise how much work I have. How many things need my attention. I don’t have the time to be everywhere at once.”

“She gets it, Rodney,” Elizabeth interrupts, “We accept that you’re busy. The point is who can you spare.”

Ford leans forward against the table and says, “Come on, Dr. McKay. There’s got to be someone.”

Rodney rolls his eyes. “Of course there’s someone. If you just want someone who can breathe and say ‘how interesting’.”

Elizabeth widens her eyes at him.

Rodney caves, waving his hands dismissively and huffing. “Kavanagh can go.”

Sheppard finally breaks position. He leans forward and taps a finger on the table. “Nope. Not taking him.”

Rodney rounds on him. Almost too eager for the challenge. Definitely dreading it. “Why not?”

“He takes too long,” the Major says simply.

“Well, I’m sorry that the delicate process of proper scientific examination is a waste of your valuable time,” Rodney spits.

Sheppard almost grins at him. “McKay, I’ve been in the labs. I’ve seen Kavanagh work. He takes twice as long to get nowhere. The guy dithers. Tells you what he wants it to be before he figures out what it actually is. I’m not holding my team out there for that long.”

“That may be a wise consideration, John,” Teyla murmurs, “That world has reported Wraith sightings even during our times of peace. If the Wraith have awakened, it would not be safe to spend too much time there.”

Elizabeth frowns. “If the Wraith are likely to turn up, we definitely don’t want to hang around for too long. Are we sure the information is worth acting on?”

Rodney looks down at his datapad. And he makes his decision. “Yes,” he says firmly, “It is.”

“Rodney, we need quick and smart,” John says softly.

Rodney’s mouth twists. “Then I suppose there’s no choice; it will have to be me.”

Ford looks worried, Teyla smiles in acceptance and nods her head, Elizabeth and John just stare back at him, both with varying degrees of blank consideration. Both thinking this through.

The argument has been headed this way since it started, Rodney thinks, and trying to win it has tired him out. So he holds still and lets them do whatever they want with his decision. He is Head of Science and Research but either Sheppard or Elizabeth can outvote him in this.

And a part of him wants them to. Wants them to say ‘no’ and let him off the hook.

“Okay,” Sheppard says, and shrugs like he couldn’t care less.

Elizabeth is the one who keeps him back after the meeting. She stands since he is standing, so he focuses his gaze to look her in the face.

It’s a show of defiance that he has taught himself and that she allows. She’s one of the few people who knows what he is and doesn’t mind his refusal to conform. She has even supported him; taken him fresh from the wilds of Siberia and given him responsibility and power.

Rodney’s not stupid. His deceptively aggressive admiration of Sam Carter doesn’t blind him to the fact that he has rarely found people in the SGC who want to work with him. Because he isn’t a team player. He’s touchy, he’s abrupt, and he insults people. He also dislikes compromise.

“Are you sure?” Elizabeth asks.

“No,” Rodney says, “You have a better idea?”

“Dr. Zelenka...”

“Is busy. They’re all busy. The only one who can spare the time is me. At least this way I can assess the outpost and see if it’s worth pursuing. Trust me, we’ll be in and out before you know we’re gone.”

Elizabeth chooses her next words carefully. “Rodney, when you’re in the field, John Sheppard is in charge.”

“I am aware of that, yes.”

“Are you sure you can follow his orders?”

“If they’re not stupid and illogical, then yes.”

“Rodney.”

“I’ll try, Elizabeth. That’s all.”

“He is a dominant.”

“I know that too.”

She smiles at him in what he assumes is either pity or sympathy or something else altogether, and then she nods once and lets him go.

It’s when he’s walking down the corridor that he hears Sheppard’s drawling tones again:

“That’s how it works, Teyla. The military doesn’t allow submissives in front line service. McKay shouldn’t be going out there.”

“I do not understand your terms. Submissives. What does that mean?”

“Well, someone who submits.”

There is a silence, and Rodney waits, unutterably curious to see how the Major’s going to answer this. He can almost picture the look of polite incomprehension on Teyla’s face.

“It’s a little hard to explain,” he hears Sheppard say, “See, people like Rodney, submissives, they take orders from people. They _submit_ to people.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what they do. They’re born like that.”

“I do not see any difference between Doctor McKay and the rest of your people.”

“It’s not... an outward thing. Well, it can be. If he’s advertising. That means if he’s looking for someone to submit to, a dominant or something. Then he’ll show certain signs and people will know he’s open to negotiation.”

“This sounds like a complex system of mateship.”

Rodney decides he likes Teyla.

“It doesn’t have to be. It’s just how it works.”

Rodney hears the sound of footsteps coming down the corridor so he leaves. Retreats to his lab and the order he has created out of chaos. A well-oiled machine that answers to his directions, and he prepares himself to leave the relative safety of Atlantis for the uncertainty of an off-world mission.

And in the end, this is what sinks him.

He ends up in the back of a stuck puddlejumper, waiting to die in thirty eight minutes.

He’s still stunned from their encounter with the Wraith, and terrified of the bug, and when Sheppard starts screaming in agony he thinks he may lose his sanity because he’s allowed Sheppard to take charge. He’s conceded to Sheppard’s dominance for the sake of the mission and because he trusts Sheppard to keep them alive.

And now Sheppard is dying.

Rodney panics. He’s been close to it for most of the day and he’s almost died once. He’s about to die a second time when the closing wormhole dematerialises the front of the puddlejumper.

Ford is doing everything he can but none of them are doctors. They don’t know what will kill the bug and everything they try is just making Sheppard’s pain worse.

Teyla shoots him frustrated glares but he can’t help himself. His mouth runs away with him as he feels his control slip almost totally out of his grasp.

When he’s almost gone, it’s Sheppard who locks his eyes on him, orders him to calm down and be quiet. Sheppard, even dying and paralysed, commands him and he is panicked enough that he obeys.

Not as a good submissive should. But as some kind of submissive anyway.

When it’s over and Sheppard is recovering in the infirmary, he goes back to his lab and sinks down behind his bank of monitors. He drops his head into his hands and shakes as the adrenaline leeches out of his bloodstream.

Elizabeth summons him outside of the debriefing, and it’s the first time she ever treats him as a fragile sub.

She sits him down, and stands over him.

“We didn’t have much time to check the outpost,” he tells her.

“The outpost is not my immediate concern,” she points out, “How do you feel?”

“I’m a little shaky,” he says, and then droops, “It wasn’t a good idea. I’m not a team person.”

“Rodney,” she starts.

“I couldn’t think in there. I wasn’t any use. I would have been better if I was here, figuring it out with proper diagnostics and-and equipment and my lab. I would have worked faster.”

“Rodney, I spoke to John.”

“I’m sure he told you I was about as much use as Kavanagh. I heard about that, by the way.”

“He says you were caught off guard. He says you panicked. Is that true?”

“Of course it’s true. What do you expect? We were attacked by the Wraith. We almost died in space. Sheppard almost died.”

“And he was in charge,” Elizabeth interprets shrewdly.

Nothing in the conversation is particularly reassuring, but it pricks at Rodney’s mostly dormant conscience until he goes to the infirmary and hovers by Sheppard’s bed.

The Major has his eyes closed, and his breathing is even. He looks worn out and haggard, skin tinged grey. His hair is mussed where it lies on the pillow. Rodney’s eyes are caught, however, by the white swathe of bandages wrapped around Sheppard’s throat.

It’s almost as good as a collar.

He retreats a few steps, which is when Sheppard’s eyes open. Aware and alert.

“You weren’t asleep,” Rodney accuses.

“No,” Sheppard rasps, and grins slightly, “Heya, Rodney. Come to check in?”

Rodney startles.

“You forgot,” Sheppard observes.

“I... you’re in the infirmary! Does it even matter?”

“Yes, it does. I told you to check in every day.”

“Major, I seriously doubt this is top priority at the moment.”

The ghost of a smirk touches the corners of Sheppard’s mouth, and Rodney bristles, but it’s the same look he remembers from the time Sheppard threw him off a balcony. And shot him in the leg. There’s nothing patronising about it. It’s just annoying.

He glowers back.

“Top priority is making sure my team is safe,” Sheppard says matter-of-factly, “That includes you.”

Rodney twitches.

“It’s not an order, McKay. Just... think about it. You did fine. Everybody did fine back here without you.”

“Elizabeth might hit Kavanagh next time.”

“I’d pay to see that.”

Sheppard’s voice goes funny and he pulls a face, lifting his left hand to touch the bandage.

“That’s going to scar, you know,” Rodney says inanely.

Sheppard directs an unimpressed glance at him. “I know.”

He drops his hand to the bed and lies back. Even closes his eyes. Looks as worn out and grey as he had when Rodney first walked in. Looks... less exuberant, suddenly. But when he speaks, his voice is still confident. Still self-assured.

“You haven’t argued with me about the team thing. That kind of worries me.”

“It’s just a trial,” Rodney says quietly, “I can back out if I want.”

Sheppard nods.

“And you don’t get to order me around.”

“When we’re out there, I’m in charge, McKay.”

“It’s non-negotiable,” Rodney snaps.

Sheppard’s eyes slit open a little. “I promise the orders will be about the mission. Not personal. I’m your team leader, not your dominant. I respect that.”

Rodney stares at him a little more, but trapped in the bed, Sheppard doesn’t look so tough. Doesn’t even look all that big. Just injured and bony and tired. A natural dominant, but not dominating.

“Well?”

“As I said, it’s a trial.”

“Good.” Sheppard’s eyes droop closed again. “Good.”


End file.
